Family Portrait
by epalladino
Summary: It is Hellboy's 80th birthday and both angst and romance ensue. Can a gift from a very special man on Christmas Eve help? Warning: sexual situations suggested. First two chapters rewritten to fix grammar and epilogue added. Please read and review.
1. Hellboy's Birthday

**Author's note: **Sometimes when I get bored at work these odd story ideas pop into my head. Some of them start to take root and cry out to be written. This one actually popped into my head as an image. Since I'm hopeless as an artist, I had to find a way to turn that image into a story. Think of this story as the attack of the angst and fluff plot bunnies.

**Warning**: This is rated 'T' (13 and older) for a reason. There are some vague references here to the sexual life of the main characters; but outside of plenty of kissing, nothing will be explicit. For those of you who following my fic Hellboy's Family there is some connection to that ongoing story. I had too many ideas that overwhelmed the 'Abe Sapien' chapter and this story was written to use some of those ideas.

_**Author's aside**__: This is basically the same as first submitted, but has been completely overhauled grammatically._

**Family Portrait: Chapter One: Hellboy's Birthday**

**_Bureau for Paranormal Research and Defense  
Newark, New Jersey  
Monday, December 23, 2024_**

Today was Hellboy's eightieth birthday.

When he had looked in the mirror that morning, the face that looked out at him was almost exactly the same face he had seen ever since he had been around fifteen years old. He never seemed to age once he grew to his full height. Still dressing in the black tee shirts and leather pants he had worn since age ten, the only real difference was the many scars he had collected over decades of employment as a monster hunter and paranormal investigator.

Elizabeth Anne Sherman, his wife of almost twenty years, was a lot closer to fifty than she once was. Her shoulder-length, raven-black hair was starting to show a little gray and her flawlessly smooth, china-pale complexion was now also beginning to show signs of aging.

Unlike the first years of their relationship, Hellboy was a more openly known, if sometimes feared, member of American society. He and the other non-human members of the Bureau for Paranormal Research and Defense were still not completely granted the same rights as the public they protected; but, at least, the federal government no longer treated these non-human agents as nothing more than virtual prisoners of the organization they were employed by.

Hellboy was now able to move freely in the Newark, New York, and Boston locations that had become very dear to him during the decades he had lived in secret as the son of Trevor 'Broom' Bruttenholm, the late founding director of the Bureau he had always called 'home'. This also meant that he had more of a chance to meet new people and make new human friends.

What Hellboy did not realize was that Liz occasionally worried that he would someday meet a younger woman whom he would find more attractive than his aging wife. She felt more than guilty for harboring this anxiety, as Hellboy was extremely loyal to those who loved him.

The reality was one that Liz in her insecurity could not see. She could never be anything other than beautiful in her bright red, oversized husband's golden-yellow eyes. If she had been willing to confide her doubts to him, he would have done everything in his power to make that perfectly clear. After all, he had once shown himself more than willing to literally go to Hell and back to save her—even at a time when he thought she was in love with someone else.

Something that Hellboy had not admitted to anyone was that he was feeling more and more out of sorts the closer his eightieth birthday came. Twenty years before this time, when Hellboy was just short of his sixtieth birthday, Trevor Broom had been murdered in that enormous library of books that also functioned as his office.

Hellboy usually avoided entering his father's former office on either Halloween or on November 1st—dates that were connected to this devastating event. Yet, for some reason, he felt compelled to enter this huge office on the first day of November in the year 2024, the eightieth year since Trevor Broom had decided to adopt a cute, red-skinned infant demon as his son.

Hellboy wanted to remember as clearly as possible what his father had been like. He was starting to find it more difficult than usual to bring details of him to mind. This bothered Hellboy more than he wanted to admit—even to himself. He had a phenomenally strong capacity for memory and, until this newly developed difficulty, had often been able to bring his long-dead father to mind so strongly it was as if he were still truly there with him.

Fish-man Abe Sapien still made use of the large aquarium that took up one wall of Trevor Broom's former office. He was more than surprised to see Hellboy enter on the evening of November 1st. Managing to catch enough of his disconsolate mood to think it might be better to leave him alone, Abe quietly swam off into the inner part of the aquarium that connected to his private quarters.

As Hellboy walked in, he heard a slight splash of water when Abe swam away and was grateful for his friend's consideration of his privacy. At first, Hellboy just wandered around the office that was barely used any more. It was mainly kept as a repository for the extensive collection of books and papers on the paranormal put together by Trevor Broom during his tenure as director of the BPRD and also as a shrine to his memory.

An empty shrine—that is what it felt like that evening to Hellboy. He stared up at the portrait of Trevor Broom that had been placed in the office in the months after his murder. It was located over the fireplace in the center of the office where there had once been a large painting of an angel.

Hellboy sat down in one of the leather chairs in the office specially designed for his massive frame and continued to stare at this portrait. After a while, he turned away from it and sat silent with his right elbow on his knee and his chin propped up in his huge, stone-like right hand.

"God," he mumbled aloud, "How I hate that damn picture. Everyone's always said how much it looks like him. But it's not like him at all; not one single bit. Makes him look like the CEO of some stupid board of directors."

Closing his eyes, he tried to conjure up any memory of his father or feeling of his presence; his tail gently moved back and forth with the effort of his concentration. Faintly, as to be almost inaudible, he heard a voice speak.

"Remember what I promised you on your fifth birthday; I will always love you: Even if you lose me, you will never lose my love."

Jumping up, Hellboy stomped back out of the office feeling even worse than when he had entered. These increasingly vague memories were just not enough anymore and he felt nothing but a huge, empty hole inside—a hole that used to be filled with the essence of Trevor Broom.

He knew that his eightieth birthday was coming up soon. Desperately needing to do something to cheer himself up, he decided to throw a huge party; inviting all of his closest friends and colleagues.

Everyone who attended the party was in fancy evening dress. Both Hellboy and fish-man Abe Sapien were resplendent in specially designed tuxedos; Hellboy's was deep black, Abe's dark gray.

Hellboy tried to enjoy himself that evening and, for a while, he did manage to forget his troubles.

Liz looked absolutely stunning. She was wearing a brand-new dress and Hellboy had been surprised with the deviation from her usual classic-black evening dress. She had been pleased when he commented on how beautiful she looked in this three-quarter sleeved, full-length, scarlet-red dress.

At one point during the evening, as Hellboy looked around the Manhattan restaurant where the party was in full swing, what jumped into his mind was the memory of the only huge party like this that Trevor Broom had ever managed to throw for his adopted son. It had been arranged as a Halloween costume party as, at that time, his existence had been kept a strict secret from the general public.

The guest of honor definitely had the time of his life at that party. He had certainly impressed the wait staff with his interesting red costume with its large tan leather trench coat.

It was now over forty years since that Halloween party. Yet, there were times that Hellboy remembered the party as if it were yesterday; but this memory always brought along with it a baggage of more unpleasant memories.

Memories of a huge argument with Trevor Broom over the testing on the newly discovered fish-man dubbed Abraham Sapien; an argument that had eventually ended with Hellboy calling his adoptive father a bastard and Broom then deciding not to attend the party himself. There were also other memories of the many friends and colleagues who had attended that party who had now passed on.

Looking around the room at all of the people attending his eightieth birthday party, Hellboy sighed. Kate Corrigan was the only person there who had known Hellboy during his younger years in Boston and had also known Trevor Broom since that time. Looking beautiful in a shimmering, silver-blue evening dress, she was now in her early seventies and carried her years well. Her once dark blond hair was cut short in a style that flattered her silvering hair. Yet, Hellboy knew she suffered from atrial fibrillation and had been hospitalized several times because of this heart condition.

This was not surprising in a woman who had lost her father in her younger years due to heart failure. He wondered how long it would be before Kate died as well; leaving him bereft of the last of his oldest friends and the only woman he had ever made love to before Liz.

Fetching a mug of beer from the bar, Hellboy retreated alone to a table in a far corner of the room. He sat staring into his drink, thinking of the humans he had always considered his friends and family; wondering if it might not be better to stop caring for them so much.

"Wouldn't be so upset when they died, then," he muttered to himself.

Hoping to shake off this growing despondency, he got up from the table and went to find Liz. Noticing Hellboy's more somber mood, Liz was troubled by it, but nervous about asking the reason.

Hellboy again took Liz onto the dance floor for a slow, romantic dance. Holding her close, he couldn't help noticing the signs of aging in this woman he loved more than anything else in the world.

As the dance came to an end, he kissed her wistfully on the cheek and then quickly walked away from the dance floor; leaving Liz standing alone. She came to her own conclusions for this sudden abandonment and, grabbing a glass of white wine, retreated to a table apart from everyone.

Except for the occasional dance with Hellboy, Kate had been spending most of the evening dancing in the slender, but strong arms of fish-man Abe Sapien. They had become a lot closer to each other in the years after Kate realized that her on again/off again romance with Hellboy was coming to an end. She had always known that Hellboy would someday meet the true love of his life. When she had met Liz for the first time, she recognized right away that Liz was the one.

Kate had found the contrast between the always impetuous and fiery Hellboy and the calm, cool, and collected Abe an intriguing one. She had certainly found pleasure in discovering that Abe had his own strong passions concealed beneath the serene exterior he always presented to people.

As Abe and Kate ended a romantic waltz, they had both noted an interchange between Hellboy and Liz at the end of this dance that ended with each of them sitting alone at tables on opposite sides of the room. Although both Liz and Hellboy could be temperamental, they seldom argued or fought—especially not in public. This unexpected split disconcerted those who had noticed.

Rarely drinking alcoholic beverages beyond the occasional glass of wine served with an excellent Italian meal, Abe decided to join Kate in a glass of the fantastic champagne that was being served that evening. They found a table where they could sit with their drinks and converse in private.

Kate saw Abe glance toward Hellboy as he sat morosely staring into a mug of beer. Nudging his arm, she gestured toward Liz sitting alone on the other side of the room, sadly nursing a glass of wine.

"Trouble in paradise do you think?" she whispered.

"I'm not certain," Abe whispered back, "Hellboy's not been disposed to confide in me much of recent, but I've noticed that he's been rather glum of late. It may be related to difficulties with Liz, yet I am more inclined to think that his despondent mood is related to something else."

Abe leaned his head closer to Kate and spoke even more quietly, "This year, for the first time in the two decades since Professor Broom's death, Hellboy entered his former office on the anniversary of the date of his murder. I will never admit this to Red, but I eavesdropped on part of his time there. He was evidently very distraught about something related to the Professor."

Kate thought over what Abe had just admitted to her. "Look, I'm going to go talk to Liz. Why don't you go see if you can get Hellboy to talk to you? I'm not completely convinced that it's just related to memories of Trevor's death. I think there's some more recent trouble brewing here as well."

Taking their drinks with them, they both got up from the table.

As Abe drew closer to where Hellboy was sitting, he could hear him mumbling something to himself as he took a drink from his beer and then sat staring at the mug still in his hand.

"Do you usually sit conversing with your beer in such a gloomy manner at birthday parties, Red, or is it just your own birthday that receives this special treatment?"

Hellboy looked up into the dark-blue eyes of his long-time friend and partner. He then looked away as he took another huge quaff of his beer and then placed the mug back down on the table.

"Go away, Abe. Just leave me alone, why don't you?"

Abe had made himself just a bit giddy by indulging in a second glass of champagne. Taking a sip from the glass held in his left hand, he flopped down in a chair at the table where Hellboy was seated.

"Nope. I'm not going to leave you alone. Frankly, with you sitting alone on one side of the room and Liz all by herself on the other, people are beginning to think that you two are having an argument. So, I will listen very quietly and very patiently while you tell me what is really bothering you enough to make you cry into your beer."

"I'm not crying," growled Hellboy, "I'm just trying to drink my beer in peace."

Abe reached out with a blue-green, webbed forefinger and touched Hellboy's left cheek.

"Then you seem to have developed a leak. Maybe you should have that checked out."

Hellboy impatiently swatted Abe's hand away with his normal-sized left hand, causing some of the champagne in the glass Abe still held to slosh out onto his tuxedo.

Hellboy, trying to blink away the traitorous tears that insisted on falling, stood up from the table and grabbed up his mug of beer.

"Just leave me the hell alone, Blue. I don't want to talk about it." He started to turn away.

"Don't want to talk about what, Red?" Abe had also stood up from his seat.

Slamming his mug of beer back down on the table with a crash that made several nearby heads turn, Hellboy collapsed back down into the seat he had just risen from. He watched as some beer slowly dribbled out from a crack that had developed down the side of the mug.

"Jesus, Abe, you're just as persistent as Pop used to be when he wanted to pry something out of me. That's what he liked to call it: 'persistent'. I still say he was a damn stubborn man when he thought he needed to know something; and you can be just as bad. Why can't you let it go?"

Abe also sat back down at the table; but, before he could reply, Hellboy had a very clear, if extremely brief series of memories related to Trevor Broom. However, the memories were not pleasant.

In the years between 2002 and Broom's murder in 2004, his relationship with Hellboy, which had already exhibited some small cracks, started to definitely unravel, if never completely falling apart; this was mainly due to Hellboy being incapable of dealing with the instabilities of a developing relationship with his BPRD colleague Elizabeth Sherman. Becoming increasingly emotionally unstable due to an inability to control her fire-making abilities, Liz had finally decided she wanted nothing more to do with Hellboy or with the Bureau they both worked for.

At that same time, Hellboy also suffered feelings of anger toward Trevor Broom and jealousy toward Liz developing an attraction toward another BPRD agent. These were just a few of the reasons why, in the last months of his adoptive father's life, they were barely speaking to one another.

All of this chaos of emotions just left Hellboy with a huge baggage of guilt when Trevor Broom was murdered in a way Hellboy was convinced he could have prevented. It had been hard for him to get beyond the pain of that guilt and to bring back to mind the close bond of affection he had shared with his adoptive father over the six decades of their life together. These more painful memories were not exactly the memories Hellboy had been trying to encourage in his visit to Trevor Broom's former office on the twentieth anniversary of his death.

Blinking away more tears that threatened to fall, Hellboy looked up at Abe. "Humans; they get sick, or get old, or get killed. It doesn't really matter which. They still end up dying on you and you're left all alone. But what can I do? Outside of you, most of my closest friends are human."

Hellboy picked up his cracked mug and watched the beer that slowly dribbled out. Placing it gently back down on the table, he stood up.

"You know, Blue, this damn moping isn't really doing me much good. Think I'm going to grab a hold of my wife and take her for another spin around the dance floor. Get a hold of Kate and we'll enjoy the rest of this party together."

"Sounds like a good plan to me," Abe said as he stood up and smiled at his old friend. He still wasn't convinced that Hellboy had completely admitted to what was bothering him, but Hellboy was right that dancing was better than moping.

While Abe had gone to talk with Hellboy, Kate walked to where Liz was seated. However, by the time she had made her way across the room, Liz had already gotten up from the table to fetch another glass of wine. When Liz arrived back, she found Kate already sitting at the table waiting for her.

Kate decided a direct approach would be better. "So, Liz, why don't you tell me why you're sitting all by yourself over here drinking glass after glass of wine while our huge, red birthday boy is all alone on the other side looking like he's lost his best friend."

Shifting uncomfortably in her seat, Liz looked down at the glass of white wine sitting in front of her. She picked it up and took a long, slow drink before answering. "H.B. and I have been dancing most of the evening and we're just a little tired. That's all."

Kate shook her head. "It looks more like you two are having a fight. What gives?"

Liz, who until then had still been contemplating her glass of wine, looked up. "Isn't it obvious, Kate? He's bored with me. I'm not getting any younger, you know. But he's too nice to come right out and tell me that he'd rather be with someone younger."

Kate just stared at Liz for a few seconds. "Bored with you? Hellboy? Are you kidding or something? He's been worshipping the very ground you walk on for decades."

Liz shrugged, "Look, I know you had a relationship with Hellboy at one time. It doesn't bother me any and I'm glad you two remained friends."

She picked up her glass of wine and drained it before continuing, "Forgive my bluntness, Kate, but at the time he was with you he didn't have much of a chance to meet new people. Now he does and I'm afraid he wishes he could drop me for someone younger. Didn't he drop you when I came along? But he married me in this whole big Catholic ceremony and he's just too much his father's son to cheat on me. So, I'm afraid he feels stuck with me now."

Liz's admission of her insecurity in Hellboy's affections surprised Kate. She stood up. "Wait here, Liz, I'll be right back. I think I need a stronger drink than this champagne."

After a few minutes, Kate came back with a large whiskey and soda and a fresh glass of white wine. As she sat down, she handed the wine to Liz. Kate took a long drink while she watched Liz toy with the new glass of wine and take a little sip from it.

Kate set her glass back down on the table. "Liz, I think you've misunderstood the nature of my relationship with Hellboy. Remember, I've known him ever since I was a little girl and our relationship has shifted through a lot of different phases over the years. Yes, I was the first woman that Hellboy made love to and, yes, he did shift from me to you; but it had nothing to do with my age and everything to do with the fact that he had fallen in love with you."

Liz sat silent during Kate's speech, still nervously toying with her glass. Kate reached out and touched her hand. "Frankly, Liz, Hellboy was never in love with me in the first place. We were just really good friends who made love once in a while. By the time of Trevor's death we were pretty much back to the brother/sister relationship we had in the beginning. Believe me, no one knows Hellboy better than I do. He only ever loved one woman and that woman is you; that woman will always only be you no matter how much older you get."

Liz took a drink from her wine before she spoke. "Then what has been his problem recently, Kate? He hardly ever makes love to me anymore. The way he looks at me, or, sometimes, avoids looking at me …" She took another drink of wine and left the statement incomplete.

"I'm not sure what the problem is, Liz. He certainly hasn't been confiding in me or in Abe recently. However, Abe has noticed things that make him believe that it's something about Trevor's death. Although why it should wait all these years to manifest is beyond me."

Kate took another drink from her whiskey and soda, "I think your concerns are coming out of your own fears of aging, Liz. Do you really believe that Hellboy has fallen out of love with you?"

Liz dipped a forefinger in her wine and ran it around the rim of her glass; causing a high-pitched, bell-like sound—almost like a glass harmonica. She listened for a while to the sound she was creating before answering the question. "I'm not exactly sure what to think, Kate. Sometimes he seems just as much in love with me as ever, but other times… Well, like I said, I'm not sure."

"Not sure about what, Liz?" came a deep voice. Looking up, she found Hellboy smiling down at her.

Liz forced herself to smile back. "Nothing in particular, H.B. Just girl-talk." She wondered how much Hellboy had overheard. She hoped it wasn't much, suddenly feeling her doubts a little disloyal.

Abe had come over to the table as well and whispered something into Kate's ear that made her smile up at him. Getting up from her seat, she took his arm and followed him onto the dance floor.

Hellboy held his left hand out to Liz, who was still seated. "I think they've got the right idea, Liz. Care to join me for a few more spins around the floor before they kick us out of this joint?"

Liz stood up and threw her arms around Hellboy's neck. "Kiss me first?" she whispered.

Hellboy drew her up for a lingering, passionate kiss that seemed to Liz to last almost forever and left her gasping for breath at the end. He hadn't kissed her like that in months. Trembling with desire, she pulled his head down for another kiss. When Liz finally came up for air, Hellboy grabbed her right hand in his left and took her out onto the dance floor, joining Abe and Kate.

By the end of the party, most of the others had forgotten that Liz and Hellboy ever appeared to suffer some sort of rift. Hellboy spent the rest of the night dancing with Liz, nuzzling and kissing her in a way that reminded her of the reception at the Bureau after their wedding.

It was just a little after midnight when Hellboy and Liz returned to the Bureau. The BPRD agent who drove the large black sedan had learned the hard way not to pay any attention to what the couple he was escorting had been doing in the back seat. For Liz, the evening that seemed headed for a kind of personal nightmare had turned into a dream come true. She hoped Hellboy felt the same way.

Later, in the wee hours, Liz awoke in their pickup-truck bed wrapped up in the embrace of her still sleeping husband. All of the fancy clothes they had worn earlier were strewn about the cement floor. She reached up and gently touched Hellboy's face. The soft snoring that had been coming from him ceased and he slowly opened his eyes. As he sleepily looked down at the woman he held in his arms, his embrace tightened and he pulled her up for a brief, gentle kiss.

It had been a very cold December that year. Even though Liz had the ability to create fire, she had never gotten along well with cold weather. Snuggling closer into the warmth of Hellboy's embrace, Liz felt better, more contented, than she had in weeks. Maybe Kate was right; maybe her concerns over Hellboy's reaction to her aging were mostly generated from her own fears.

Wrapping her right arm around Hellboy's neck, Liz relaxed her head onto his chest and listened to his steadily beating heart until she fell asleep again. A few minutes later Hellboy drifted back into sleep, feeling happier than he had felt in a long time.

Sometime toward dawn, Hellboy awoke again. He spent several long, contented moments gazing at the woman asleep in his arms—the woman who would always be beautiful to him. Gently kissing the top of her head, he took in the slight scent of flowers that came from her use of some kind of botanical hair-preparation gel.

Hellboy always had a very sharp sense of smell. He appreciated that none of the important people in his life indulged in colognes, perfumes, or other strong-scented products.

Yet, he always loved the light scents that clung to both Kate and Liz—mainly deriving from natural, fruit- or botanical-based soaps and shampoos. He thought of Kate's hair; her hair always smelled like peaches in his memories of their times together. He thought of Liz, who always smelled like a beautiful garden whenever they made love. He thought of his partner, Abe Sapien, who always seemed to smell like an ocean breeze.

As Hellboy calmly relaxed into this reverie, memories of Trevor Broom going all the way back to his childhood came into his mind; memories in which Broom always smelled slightly of the clothes detergents and soaps he specially imported from England. These memories of his father were as pleasant as his earlier memories of him had been unpleasant.

Even these pleasant memories of Trevor Broom were devastatingly brief. As Hellboy gently held Liz in his arms, he was unfortunately reminded of another body he had once held—a body that was stone cold in death. This was one memory of his father that Hellboy certainly did not want to remember.

Hellboy's happy mood faded completely. Gently disentangling himself from Liz's embrace, he got up from the bed. Looking back down at his still sleeping wife, he again noticed how much older she looked than when he had married her. Leaving his cloven hooves un-booted, he dressed in a large black sweat suit. Pushing open the metal door to their room, he walked out into the hallway beyond feeling completely bereft and empty inside.

_Next: Chapter Two: __**A Present on Christmas Eve**_


	2. A Present on Christmas Eve

**Author's note: **The attack of the angst and fluff plot bunnies continues. For those of you reading this fic who have not read my ongoing fic Hellboy's Family, you may wish to do so. The story here is mainly connected to Chapters Four, Five, and Six of that story. However, this story can be read independently. For those of you only familiar with the movie, Kate Corrigan's character derives from the original Mignola Hellboy comics, as does the December birthday for Hellboy.

**Warning**: Please heed the 'T' (13 or older) rating. Some of what is below is sexually suggestive, but it will never become graphic.

**Family Portrait: Chapter Two: A Present on Christmas Eve**

**_Bureau for Paranormal Research and Defense  
Newark, New Jersey  
Tuesday, December 24, 2024 _**

For a long time, Liz warmly drifted in pleasant dreams; but, at one point, these beautiful visions were disturbed by the fact that she felt chilly. The lower half of her was still covered by the blanket Hellboy had pulled over them after their earlier passion; but she realized, even before she opened her eyes, that the loving embrace she had been sleeping in was gone.

In recent months, Liz found that making love with Hellboy often seemed perfunctory. It had become infrequent and so brief, when it finally did occur, as to be almost over before it had started. Sometimes, she would awaken afterward to find herself cold and completely alone in the red pickup truck that had been turned into a bed. Hellboy would disappear somewhere in the huge maze of the Bureau main headquarters and would never return for the rest of the night. Liz had given up trying to figure out where he had been going. He never volunteered the information and she never asked.

What happened after his birthday party had seemed so different at first. Awakening in the wee hours of the morning, Liz had been both pleased and surprised to find that she had remained in Hellboy's arms while they slept; it reminded her of when they had first married. Now, she once again felt bereft and empty at being left alone with no word.

Unable to go back to sleep, Liz climbed out of the bed and went to find her dark-blue dressing gown. Putting it on, she went around the room, retrieving and hanging up all of their fancy clothing from the night before. She found that Hellboy's tuxedo was pretty much intact; but her beautiful scarlet dress had been just a little damaged by Hellboy's earlier impatient eagerness.

This was also a somewhat painful reminder of the early years of their marriage; years that at the moment seemed to Liz like some far distant past. The damage to her new dress was easily repairable, but she found herself hating the dress that Hellboy had so admired the night before.

Unlike Kate Corrigan, who had become slightly broader over the years, Liz had always remained exactly the same petite size. She had worn the same dependable black evening dress for special occasions for years. However, when Liz had found out about Hellboy's plans to have a birthday party, she had surprised Kate by suggesting that they go out shopping together and buy new dresses.

Liz stood there for a long time, contemplating the rumpled dress she had just picked up. For a while, it had seemed to her that this new dress had wrought some sort of miracle. She had felt that she again looked beautiful in her husband's eyes. She sighed; it was a miracle that seemed not to have lasted very long. Sadly balling up the dress, she threw it down the waste disposal chute.

After putting on a pair of shoes, Liz pulled a long winter coat on over her dressing gown. She knew this would probably be nothing more than a frustrating waste of time; but she again felt compelled to go out and look for Hellboy on the roof over the entranceway to the Bureau main headquarters.

Not long after they had been married, Hellboy would sometimes disappear in the middle of the night. At that time, he was still filled with grief and guilt over Trevor Broom's recent death. Liz would often find him standing on the entranceway roof—on the very same spot where he had stood when he watched the other agents and Bureau officials carry out his father's coffin, heading for a funeral the FBI blocked him from attending.

Before this devastating event, this spot on the roof had been a favorite place for Hellboy to sit when he wanted to ponder anything or just relax alone. It was a place he had shared with only the very most significant people in his life. Before Liz Sherman came along, the only people who had regularly joined him there were Trevor Broom and Kate Corrigan; even Abe Sapien seldom came there.

While working through his immense grief after Trevor Broom's death, Hellboy found himself once again drawn to this spot on the roof; to ponder things and, especially, to reminisce about Broom. When, more recently, Hellboy had taken to disappearing almost every time they made love, this spot on the roof had been the first place that Liz thought to look for him.

Sighing, Liz walked out into the hallway. She doubted she would actually find Hellboy. Every time she had tried to look for him recently, she failed to find him; not even on the roof. She began to wonder if it might not be better to just pack up and leave; to give Hellboy her permission to find someone younger than she was. She was so firmly convinced that this was what he truly wished for.

* * *

_Megan O'Flaherty looked around the small studio apartment where she now resided in Dublin. _

_Even though the apartment was very tiny and the furniture merely functional, to her eyes everything looked radiantly beautiful. The main reason for this was that she had recently regained her sight, after years of blindness and recent months of major operations and rehabilitation. No matter how mundane or ugly, all things looked miraculous to her. _

_She looked for about the hundredth time at her reflection in the mirror over a chest of drawers and only just barely recalled how she had looked before a childhood accident had robbed her of her sight. As she gazed at herself, she saw a petite twenty-four year old woman dressed in jeans and plaid shirt with long red hair pulled into a braid and a face with a smattering of freckles. _

_Megan had only one regret; so often one must sacrifice something to gain something else. _

_As she was musing on these thoughts, there came a knock at the door. _

_Upon answering, she found that her unknown visitor was a somewhat elderly English-looking gentleman dressed in an oddly old-fashioned three-piece dark brown suit. _

"_May I speak with you, Ms. O'Flaherty? I have heard from various sources that you paint quite unique portraits and would like to commission one of these from you. I am afraid that my information may have been incorrect, however; I had heard that you were blind." _

_Megan held up her hand, "Sir, I am afraid I can no longer create the portraits you are speaking of. Yes, I was once totally blind, but have regained my sight recently. When this occurred I lost my unique ability. I am truly sorry this has happened; but I'm not certain I regret giving this ability up in exchange for my sight." _

_The gentleman she was speaking with gave Megan the mysterious impression of being at a great distance even though he was standing right in front of her. _

_Megan smiled at him, "However, I feel that I need to tell you the story of my most unique portrait. Please come in and I will make us a pot of tea. May I ask your name?" _

_Returning her smile, the man entered and sat at the small table she indicated. _

"_You may call me Trevor." He looked more closely at the young woman. "Would it frighten you inordinately to know that I am no longer among the living?" _

_Looking more closely at Trevor, Megan shrugged, "You don't seem to be that frightening for a ghost," she said, as she went to the little kitchenette to prepare the tea. "Can you still eat and drink?" _

"_I am not really a ghost at all, Ms. O'Flaherty. I am merely a man with unfinished business—a man who would find it very satisfactory to have a good cup of Irish tea; it has been such a long time." _

_Megan was soon seated with Trevor, drinking cups of excellent Irish tea with fresh cream. She had also set a tray of homemade scones on the table. Trevor appeared to enjoy everything immensely. "These are quite excellent scones. I recall having similar scones when I was younger. Is the recipe one handed down in your family?" _

"_Yes, Trevor, it is a family recipe. In fact, my family and my great-grandmother's scones will be connected to the story I am about to relate." _

_While she continued speaking, she poured Trevor another cup of tea. "I once resided in my youth in a small village in another, more rural, area of Ireland. I was sent to this village to live with my paternal grandmother and great-grandmother after my parents had been killed in the same car accident that robbed me of my sight. My ability to create unique works of art was discovered in my teenage years. Soon, many people began to come to me for these portraits which I created for them by smearing and flinging different colored oil paints onto a blank canvas." _

"_Indeed," murmured Trevor, "What do the people then see when they view these 'portraits' they have commissioned from you?" _

"_They claim, if they look at the paintings for long enough, to be able to see their loved ones who have passed on. According to reports, the experience is so visceral it is as if these loved ones were truly alive again. I don't know where this gift came from or why I lost the gift when I regained my sight." _

_Trevor sighed, "Yes, I heard some unique things about these portraits and had wished to commission one as a gift for my son. He is still finding it so hard to be without me; even after all these years." _

"_Trevor, I am truly sorry that I am unable to do this for you; but this is why I wanted to speak with you about the one portrait I have never sold. This was the only painting I ever did that was not commissioned by anyone. It was one of my largest canvases." _

_Pouring them each another cup of tea, Megan passed Trevor another scone. "I told no one about the portrait while I worked on it. After I finished, I felt that I had to show it to my great-grandmother, Margaret Monaghan. She claimed to definitely be able to see something in this portrait." _

_Megan took a drink of her tea. "My great-grandmother then proceeded to tell me the strangest story. A large, red creature, who arrived to the village in 1959, had saved her baby, my grandmother Alice, from the clutches of a bunch of the 'wee folk'. Gram claimed to be able to see a portrait of this creature in my painting, together with a human male; she assumed this man was the one the boy mentioned as his adoptive father." _

_Trevor leaned forward, very eager to hear more of this story Megan was relating. _

"_It was obvious that Gram had very fond memories of this creature. _

_She said to me, 'If you can believe it, Megan, that poor boy, no matter how large, was only fourteen years old. He was sent to get my Alice back from those little men. The boy never told me his name; but he did tell me how worried he was about the man he called his father, who was deathly ill at the time with some kind of cancer. _

_After he rescued Alice, I sent him home with tea, scones, and soda bread for his father. His odd appearance had frightened me at first, but I will never forget how kind and gentle he was with Alice, or how grieved he was over his father's illness. This boy is definitely the one I see in your portrait.' _

_Gram asked me never to mention her story to my Grandmother Alice, who recalled almost nothing of this incident. When I asked Gram what I should do with the portrait, she told me to keep it with me because someday the one who commissioned it would arrive to claim it." _

_Trevor passed his right hand over his face, "Let me think; I am afraid that sometimes I am beginning to forget details of my previous life. Monaghan, Monaghan… Yes, now that I think of it that was the name of the baby: Alice Monaghan. It was in 1959 that my son was sent by the Bureau to work on what he always called 'that fairy changeling thing'. As for his name, he is called 'Hellboy'; not the most auspicious name I could have chosen, but it is too late to change it now." _

_He passed his hand over his face again, "I am afraid my time is growing short. I would first like to thank you for your hospitality. I realize why these scones tasted so familiar; they are very similar to the scones my son brought to my hospital room when he returned from Ireland in 1959." _

_Trevor took a last drink of his tea and stood up. "Please, I would like to see this portrait now." _

_Feeling oddly tense, more with anticipation than with fear, Megan arose from the table. Going to the single large closet in her small apartment, she pulled out something very large and flat that was covered with a sheet. Still keeping the back of the painting toward Trevor, she unwound the sheet and looked at something she hadn't seen since she had placed it in the closet. _

"_Funny," Megan muttered, more to herself than to Trevor, "I know I covered this canvas with paint, but it appears as utterly blank to me as a bare, unused canvas." _

_Looking up, she spoke louder, "Trevor, it might be better if you sat down to view this; some people claim the first sight of these portraits gives them vertigo." _

_Moving his chair closer to where Megan had just propped up the framed canvas, Trevor sat and contemplated the random splotches of bright colors. Soon, these splotches began to revolve and spin in a dizzying way; before finally coalescing into shapes that he could discern. Megan heard him draw in his breath sharply. _

_She moved closer, "Do you see anything, Trevor?" _

"_Yes, oh yes," he said in a very low voice, "I see a young man—an injured, wet, and dirty young man; a young man who, regardless of the pain he is in, is the happiest man in the world because the one he will raise as his own son has just leapt into his arms." _

_Trevor buried his face in his hands for a long time. When he looked up again, Megan could see his eyes were filled with tears as he spoke. _

"_I can also see a little, red face with innocent golden eyes and tiny horns; a supposed demon from Hell who became the gift of Heaven for a lonely man. I will give anything you ask for this portrait." _

_Megan placed a hand on Trevor's shoulder, "The price was paid in full by your son in 1959; I can demand nothing further." _

_Standing again, Trevor grasped Megan's hand and kissed it. "I can never thank you enough for your generosity and kindness. A few questions before I go. Is the image I saw the same as the one your great-grandmother saw? Will my son see the same image I see now?" _

_Continuing to hold onto Trevor's hand, Megan shook her head. "Each person will see the image that most resonates with them. Gram saw your son as she remembered him; he was looking very happy and standing next to a man she assumed was the father he had spoken of. The image you yourself saw was the first time you met the one who became as a son to you. However, these images never remain static. They will shift to what the person viewing it most needs to see. Let me warn you that many will only see random shapes in this portrait; and there will be some who should be able to see images that will only see utter darkness. These are the ones who have allowed either grief or fear to totally empty their hearts of the love they once felt." _

_Letting go of Megan's hand, Trevor sadly turned away. "This is what I fear for my son," he whispered. _

_Blinking back tears, he turned back; there was a question he felt compelled to ask. "May I inquire on which date the accident occurred that both robbed you of your sight and left you orphaned?" _

_Trevor was sorry he had asked this as he watched Megan's eyes also fill with tears. "This is a date I will never be able to forget even though I recall nothing of the accident; it was November 1st, 2004." _

"_That was the day on which my own life was taken from me," Trevor revealed to Megan's surprise; leaving both of them even more amazed at the mysterious ways of the universe. _

"_Are your grandmother and great-grandmother still living?" Trevor inquired when they both had regained their composure. _

_Megan nodded, "Gram is in her early nineties and Grandmother Alice is in her mid-sixties. They enjoy the quiet of rural life too much to want to join me in Dublin. They still live in the village where your son came in 1959. Gram feels that to move away from there would rob her of a connection to the most significant event of her life. To this day, she still treasures the letters that both you and your son wrote thanking her for the food she sent you."_

_Leaning forward, Trevor embraced Megan closely. "Greet your great-grandmother for me when you see her again. I wish I could go and visit her myself; but the time I have been granted is very brief and my son needs me. I must go to him before I lose him forever. I thank you from the bottom of my heart for the great gift of this portrait."_

_Megan hugged Trevor back and whispered in his ear, "Don't thank me; it is your great love for your son that brought this portrait into being and his love for you that paid for it. I hope it brings to both of you all you need and desire." _

* * *

It was very early in the morning, on the day after his eightieth birthday, that Hellboy listlessly wandered the multitudinous, almost maze-like underground corridors of the BPRD main headquarters in Newark, New Jersey. He felt nothing more inside his heart than an empty despair.

Because the day after Hellboy's birthday was Christmas Eve, it had always been a day of very special sharing when Trevor Broom was still alive. This day had been of more personal significance for them than even Christmas Day itself. From Hellboy's youngest years, they would always spend Christmas Eve together, putting up decorations, setting up the Christmas tree and Nativity figurines, and reading the nativity accounts from the Gospels of Matthew and Luke. The day would eventually culminate in father and son attending Christmas Midnight Mass in the Bureau facility chapel.

Even after Trevor Broom's unexpected demise, Hellboy always felt a deep and continuing connection to the man who had loved him more than any father. He had many regrets for things that he wished he had handled differently when his adoptive father had still been alive. The deepest of these regrets was that he had never expressed in words how profound his love had truly been for this man.

Every year since Broom's murder, Hellboy would spend Christmas Eve with Liz, Abe, and his other friends decorating his father's former office and trimming a large Christmas tree. He would later take Liz to attend Midnight Mass in the large chapel in the Medical Wing.

After this, Hellboy would spend time alone on the roof. He would bring his adoptive father to mind and speak to him of the love he still felt. It was memories of this that made Liz wish to look for Hellboy on the roof one more time.

At one point during his aimless travels, Hellboy walked blindly past two BPRD agents. Bill Grant and Sam Walters often worked the late shift and had recently returned from dealing with a minor occurrence of paranormal activity.

"Jeez, there goes Big Red again, Sam," said Bill, "This is the second time I've seen him this morning. I swear every time I come off some job early in the morning I see him pacing the halls. From what I heard from the other guys, Red had a really great birthday party last night. You'd think he'd still be in bed sleeping it off; not wandering around like the Flying Dutchman looking for his ghost ship."

Sam shrugged, "I heard from Smitty that H.B. and Liz had some sort of argument during the party; but they later made it up and were all over each other like two teenagers in love. Smit, who was the agent who drove them back to headquarters, tells me that H.B. practically poked his eyes out with his stone hand for taking too much notice of what he was doing with Liz in the back seat."

Bill yawned and stretched. "Maybe they had another fight and Liz threw him out. C'mon, Walters, let's go find a break-room with a fresh pot of coffee going and grab a cup before hitting the sack."

Still rather curious about Hellboy's odd behavior, Bill and Sam continued on down the corridor.

Eventually making his way into the main corridor of the Medical Wing, Hellboy came out of the daze he was in to find that he was standing in front of the entrance to the chapel. He hadn't been there since the Easter Vigil mass that had been conducted by Father Tom Hartley, a consultant for the BPRD who also handled the Sunday and holiday services for this chapel.

Trevor Broom may have raised his adopted son in his own Catholic faith; but Hellboy had not regularly attended services since he had been around eight or nine years old. He mainly found things of a religious nature to be somewhat dull. Yet, at the same time, his own personal faith and spirituality were deep and intensely felt.

There was no one in the chapel when Hellboy pulled open the door and walked in. The quiet peace that he always found in the slightly darkened chapel calmed him. It helped to fill the black void that had been attempting to engulf his heart.

Trevor Broom had placed this chapel in the Medical Wing of the new BPRD headquarters in Newark, New Jersey after they had moved there permanently in 1961. It was a much larger chapel than the one that Hellboy had become familiar with in the previous headquarters in Boston.

This time, Broom had made certain that special seating was installed in the rear of the chapel that could support Hellboy's weight. It was no longer necessary for him to sit on the floor whenever he wanted to attend Mass. Yet, unless Hellboy had been attending Mass with Broom or, after his death, Liz Sherman, he always sat on the floor near the statue of the Virgin Mary when he was in the chapel.

After he returned from his trip to Ireland in 1959, Hellboy had been worried over Trevor Broom's treatment for cancer. When his father often became unavailable during this lengthy hospital stay, Hellboy had few people he could turn to for support and guidance. At that time, he had become very close to a small group of people who become almost like family to him; especially the head nurse, Martha Wilson and, later, the chief surgeon, Robert Patterson. Yet, there were many times they could be unavailable as well due to the busy nature of their schedules.

For the first and almost only time in his life, Hellboy turned to a ritual of daily prayer. Because of Trevor Broom's own personal devotion to the rosary, this was the type of prayer that suggested itself to Hellboy. It was during this difficult time that he first became acquainted with the eight-year-old Katie Corrigan, whose father was also hospitalized in the BPRD facility at that same time as Broom. Through his newly developed friendship with Katie, Hellboy discovered something very profound: showing compassion to another child in pain was the best way to grapple with his own fear and grief.

Sixty-five years later, Hellboy was again grappling with fear and grief; coming to the chapel to sit at the feet of the statue of the Virgin was an almost unconscious act on his part. Something finally began to stir inside his heart in the place of the bleak emptiness that had so overwhelmed him earlier.

At one point, he suddenly recalled that it was Christmas Eve; thinking of how much he had to accomplish if he wanted to get everything in his father's former office ready before the next day.

Standing up to leave, Hellboy became very dizzy and sat back down on the floor. Coming to realize that he was very hungry, he had no idea how long he had been sitting there. In fact, he could barely remember what he had been doing before he found himself standing before the door of the chapel.

This disconcerted him. First, he couldn't recall things from years ago; now, he couldn't even recall what had occurred that morning. Hellboy knew something wasn't right, but he couldn't pinpoint what that something was.

Trying to stand again, he found himself even more unable. He started to wonder if it might not be a good idea to try to crawl out into the main corridor of the Medical Wing to get help.

Hellboy closed his eyes for what he thought was just a moment, but then he must have fallen asleep. The next thing he knew, there was this young woman kneeling next to him. She was touching his cheek and asking him if he was feeling okay.

He sat up; somewhat perplexed at finding he had been lying on the floor of the chapel. The young woman was not someone he recognized. She didn't have a uniform, so she was probably not a nurse; but he was still dizzy and found it hard to focus on the woman at all.

"Hey, sorry, lady. Didn't mean to startle you," he managed to say. The woman, who was obviously stronger than her size made her appear, helped him to get up from the floor.

She still seemed slightly out of focus when he tried to look at her. The only thing he could really make out was that the flowing outfit she was wearing seemed mostly to be a light shade of blue.

"Thanks for the help, lady. I must have fallen asleep." The young woman held up her left hand to silence him and then placed it on his chest.

"Tell me why you allowed such cold darkness to fill your heart. You should beware of what you wish for on your birthday; it just might come true."

Hellboy blinked, "Did I wish for something bad? All I wanted was to feel good again."

"Come and sit with me a moment." Leading Hellboy to the rear of the chapel, the woman sat down in the chair that for so many decades Trevor Broom used to sit in when he attended Mass. Hellboy sat in that much larger chair designed for him that stood to its right. Wondering what this woman wanted, he noticed that he still couldn't quite make out what she looked like.

"Love can sometimes be a very strange thing," she said after they sat down. "So many think that it should only bring joy and happiness in its wake. But, unfortunately, love can also be accompanied by pain and sorrow. If we attempt to drive the pain from our hearts, we may find that we drive out the love as well. Last night, you began to think you would feel less pain when your human friends died if you cared less for them. Is that not true?"

Wondering again where this woman had come from, Hellboy could only nod.

"Remember this; a heart is meant to be filled. If we do not fill it with love, it will end up being filled with something else. No pain feels worse than the ache of an empty heart. That is why many people attempt to fill that emptiness with things that do not really satisfy. You yourself have a peril that your human friends do not; if you allow yourself to become emptied of love, there is a great pit of darkness waiting to fill you. Twice, already, this darkness has imperiled you: once in 1978 and again in 2004. This demonic entity that wishes to possess you will always be waiting for an opportunity to enter you. Only if you keep your heart filled with love will you have the strength to protect yourself."

Closing his eyes, Hellboy bowed his head and remained silent for a long while. "But it hurts so much when the people you love die," he finally said in a very small voice.

"Believe me, I know. Yet, is it not even worse to anticipate grief before the loss has occurred and forget how to experience the joy in this present moment? Go to your wife, she needs you."

Hellboy raised his head to look at the woman who had been speaking to him, but she was gone. Looking around, he wondered how she had managed to get up and walk out so quickly.

Looking back down at the chair she had just vacated, he saw a small book left behind on the seat. Picking it up, he saw that it was entitled A Child's Garland of the Rosary. Opening it and turning to the dedication page, he read the inscription there:

**_To the son God in His wisdom has given me:  
Pray always, Love always _**

**_Your loving Father,  
Trevor Bruttenholm _**

**_12/23/1951 _**

Hellboy looked at the book in surprise. His father had given him this as a gift for his seventh birthday; but at the time, he had found praying an extremely boring pastime. He had eventually misplaced the book somewhere in the welter of junk in his room and never saw it again. He couldn't believe that some seventy years later he was now holding that same book in his hands.

Still curious, he shoved the small book in the pocket of his sweatpants and went out of the chapel.

Returning to their room, Hellboy left when he found that Liz was not there. He still hadn't eaten, showered, or dressed; but he felt the desperate need to see her right then and there. He had been unsettled by the words of the mysterious woman in the chapel.

There was a large living room/rec room that had been installed fifteen years before for the various agents of the BPRD. There they could relax, eat, listen to music, watch video entertainments, or just enjoy the company of their peers. Liz often liked to hang out there when she wasn't in their room or doing research in Broom's office about one or another of their operations. However, when Hellboy looked in there, he was informed that no one had seen Liz all morning.

Checking in Trevor Broom's office, all he found there was one very hung-over fish-man floating head down in the aquarium. Legs and arms crossed, Abe looked a lot more green than usual. He also had not seen Liz that day. But, then again, Hellboy thought to himself, Abe couldn't see much of anything.

All Hellboy could get out of him was a vow that Kate Corrigan would never get him to drink that much champagne ever again. Somehow, she had managed to filch an entire bottle of it from the party and sneak it back to the Bureau. To Abe, at the time, it had seemed like so much fun to keep drinking the stuff while kissing Kate and trying to undress her. He had quite a job figuring out all of the fastenings on her new dress with webbed fingers that unexpectedly seemed a lot clumsier than usual.

Not that Abe had been able to explain much of this to Hellboy; all he could mostly do was groan. Even though Hellboy did not like seeing his friend in such pain, somehow this served as a reminder of just how much fun his birthday party had really turned out to be. Feeling a lot more light-hearted than he had felt all morning, Hellboy went back out into the hallway.

Because of how much Liz hated the cold, the last place Hellboy thought of looking was on the entranceway roof. It had been cold enough recently; but wind-chill was making the temperature seem even colder that morning. Hellboy wasn't too keen on cold weather himself; having been raised as a young child in New Mexico where winter temperatures were much more mild.

After returning to their room, he dressed in his warmest clothes and pulled on some boots over his cloven hooves. Retrieving the mysteriously re-discovered child's rosary book from the pocket where he had placed it, he put it into one of the interior pockets of the leather coat he was now wearing. Ascending various elevators and climbing up a series of fire-exit stairs, he eventually came to the roof that overhung the entranceway.

At first, as he walked out onto the roof he didn't see anyone; but Elizabeth Sherman had spent a significant portion of her teenage years living on the streets and knew how to make herself as insignificant looking as possible. This was the reason why the BPRD security guards never noticed how long she had been sitting on the roof in the freezing wind that was blowing across its flat surface.

Hellboy finally did see Liz; but the coat she was wearing made her look more like a big, black cat curled up into a shivering ball than the wife he had been searching for.

He knelt down beside her. "Hey, Liz, what on earth do you think you're doing out here on the roof? You could freeze to death." He felt so stupid, but that was all he could think to say.

Still looking away from him, she finally muttered, "Would you even care?"

"Would I even…?" Hellboy repeated in a low voice, still kneeling at her side.

"Of course, I care," he said in a much louder voice. "How could you even think I wouldn't?"

At this, Liz looked up. She could see the concern deep in his golden eyes—eyes that never lied.

"I'm sorry, H.B. Of course, you care. That's not what our problem is."

Standing up again, Hellboy reached down to help her to her feet. "C'mon, Lizzie, can't we go back in and talk about whatever this problem is some place where we won't freeze our asses off?"

Acquiescing to the gentle plea in his voice, Liz attempted to stand; but she found that she was now so cold and hungry it was difficult to do so. More concerned at this weakness than he had been before, Hellboy wondered how long Liz had been sitting on the roof in subzero winds.

Stripping off his big leather coat, Hellboy wrapped Liz in it and picked her up into his arms. Maneuvering the fire-escape door open, he carried her back into the building.

Liz burrowed deeper into the folds of the coat Hellboy had wrapped around her. She was enjoying the feeling of warmth spreading through her as he carried her in his arms. However, she also dreaded the confrontation she knew would be coming. She had tried so very hard in recent weeks to hide from Hellboy her growing insecurity in their relationship.

Hellboy had been very hurt by her remark about him not caring. Liz knew the statement had been an unfair one; from the very first time they met he had always cared deeply, even before he found himself in love with her. Now, she would have to bring all of her anxieties out into the open and she wasn't sure she was ready to find out what was really troubling him recently.

"I think I can walk now, H.B." Liz said, after he had carried her down several stairwells. Burying his face in her hair, he just held her closer. Keeping her in his arms, he finally descended by a combination of stairs and platform elevators to the office where he had earlier left a hung-over Abe.

Pushing the right-hand golden oak door open with his foot, he carried Liz inside. He gently placed her, still wrapped in his coat, into one of the huge leather chairs. Without a word, he proceeded to build up the fire; using logs from the ample supply of wood always stacked up to the left of the fireplace.

Noting that Abe was no longer to be seen in his aquarium, Hellboy later found out that Kate had finally talked Abe into letting her take him for some very black coffee. Going to the rear of the office, Hellboy came back with several large flat cushions he had removed from sofas located there; arranging them on the floor in front of the now roaring fireplace.

Watching as he was doing this, Liz noticed that there seemed something very different about him. Outside of his indignation over her accusation of not caring, he had seemed uncharacteristically quiet, almost pensive. Upon completing what he was doing, he lifted Liz from the chair and placed her on the cushions. The warmth from the fireplace felt so good that all she wanted to do was go to sleep.

Hellboy, however, was concerned about Liz becoming over-heated. Kneeling on the floor beside her, he gently removed both his coat and the black coat she had been wearing. He noted for the first time that all she was wearing underneath was a very pretty, but rather thin dark-blue dressing gown.

Returning to the rear of the office, he came back with a large olive-green blanket with which he covered Liz as she laid on the cushions. Sitting cross-legged next to her on one of the other cushions, he watched her staring into the brightly burning fire.

Neither of them had spoken since entering the office. Hellboy knew they needed to talk; he also knew they needed to eat something—but right then he wanted nothing more than to gather Liz into his arms and watch the fire with her. She made no objection when he reached out and drew her, still wrapped up in the blanket, to sit in his lap and rest her head on his shoulder. He wrapped his huge right hand gently around her waist.

They sat together, silently contemplating the fire, for a long time. As he softly stroked Liz's dark hair with his left hand, a warm satisfaction began to fill Hellboy. Taking her chin in his hand, he tilted her head up for a long-lasting, tender kiss. The deep-seated joy that came with this kiss banished the last of the bleak emptiness that had driven him away from her earlier that morning.

Liz was the first to pull away from that kiss; it had filled her with delight, but her feelings were still confused and agitated. Almost without volition on her part, she buried her face in his shoulder and began to weep, almost hysterically.

Rather than trying to get her to talk when she was that distraught, Hellboy held Liz tightly in his arms and went back to stroking her hair until she had wept herself out. After a long while, the sobs finally dwindled down to a few sniffles. Hellboy felt the tension that had filled Liz's body relax in his arms and came to the eventual realization that she had fallen asleep. Shifting his weight on the cushions, he lay with her in his arms and joined her in sleep in front of the fire.

Liz had never been a heavy eater, but Hellboy required huge amounts of food every day to support his massive frame. When he was very angry, upset, or grieving he did have a tendency to lose his appetite and had been known during certain times in his life to go for days on end without food. When the crisis was over or the grief dealt with his appetite would usually return with a vengeance.

This was what happened as he later awoke in front of the fire and found that Liz was still sleeping in his arms. He peered up at a beautiful oak wall clock, one that Trevor Broom had brought with him when he moved from England, and noted that the time was almost noon. He just had to get up and find something to eat or he would faint. Yet, he didn't want to leave Liz alone. He still wasn't quite sure what was wrong, but he knew that he had to stay with her.

Hellboy stood up from the floor without waking Liz. Going to a large wooden desk, he used a relatively new communications device to contact the main kitchen and have food sent to the office. Trevor Broom had always insisted on keeping his office a bit on the old-fashioned side, but Hellboy knew where to look for all sorts of fancy equipment that had been specially installed. Some of this had been installed after Broom's death, but Hellboy insisted on honoring his father's unexpressed wishes and pretty much kept the original look of the office.

Liz awoke some time later to the more than appetizing smells of French toast, pancakes, bacon, sausage, and coffee. Knowing Liz's predilection for what she considered healthier foods, Hellboy had also had the kitchen include some fruit, nuts, granola, and fat-free milk.

He even rooted around in the office and located his father's old teapot, kettle, and a still-fresh supply of imported loose-leaf tea. He was now busy heating water on a kettle hob in the fireplace so that Liz could have tea instead of coffee. The breakfast was laid out on a table for two that was now sitting to the left of where she was lying on the cushions.

It amused Liz to lie there and watch Hellboy expertly fuss with the kettle and teapot; it made him look so domestic. Even though no words had yet been shared between them dealing with troublesome recent events, Hellboy's quiet comfort while she wept earlier had done much toward calming her.

Getting quietly up from the floor, Liz snuck up behind Hellboy and kissed his cheek before he realized that she was there. "Where did you learn to make tea like that, H.B.?"

Rather than answering right away, Hellboy turned from spooning out the correct amount of tea to grab Liz into a kiss that to her exploring tongue tasted like maple syrup and the egginess of French toast. Returning to his tea preparations, he soon had a pot of English breakfast tea brewing. As he was doing this, he smiled at being visited by another pleasant memory of Trevor Broom.

"Pop told me how to make tea back when he was in the hospital in '59. I had brought back some really great tea from a trip to Ireland; but I didn't want to keep bothering the main kitchen every time I wanted to bring him a pot of that tea and the Medical Wing kitchen was hopeless. So, I started doing it myself. I brought him tea almost every day, sometimes twice, and he really loved it."

Bringing the pot of tea to the table, he sat down to continue eating the breakfast he had started while Liz was still sleeping. "C'mon and eat something, Liz. I'm sure you're as starved as I am."

Liz drank some of the surprisingly good tea Hellboy had prepared. Fixing a bowl of the granola and fat-free milk, she added some of the fruit and nuts. She ate a few spoonfuls of this; but then proceeded to aimlessly stir it around in her bowl.

She wished she could understand these mood swings of hers. First, she would be firmly convinced of Hellboy's continuing love for her; and, then, just as firmly convinced that he was noticing she was getting older and wishing he wasn't stuck with an aging wife. This uncertainty was driving her crazy; but she was afraid to come right out and ask him how he really felt.

Hellboy was apparently paying no attention to anything more than the huge amounts of pancakes, bacon, French toast, and sausage he was quickly wolfing down; but he had noticed, more than once, that Liz was barely consuming any food at all. He had learned a lot about the virtue of patience from Trevor Broom over the six decades of their relationship. Liz was more than aware that he had been quite patient with her over the last several hours—but he was not his father and his patience had definite limits. Liz was also aware that she was quickly reaching those limits.

Hellboy finally threw his fork down. "Jesus, Liz, why don't you just tell me what's been bothering you, instead of sitting there playing around with your food?"

Liz knew it would be better just to answer the question than to risk the huge argument that would ensue if she kept trying to evade it; but she still was afraid. She very deliberately munched on a few more spoonfuls of her cereal and took another slow drink from her tea before she spoke. "I just don't feel all that well, H.B. What I'd really like to do right now is to go back to the room for a few minutes to take a shower and get dressed. Then maybe I'll feel more up to eating, okay?"

Hellboy shrugged and picked up his fork again, "I guess so. Just tell me one thing before you leave: why ever did you go out on the roof this morning on such a cold day as this?"

"I was looking for you," came the soft answer.

"Looking for me?" Hellboy grunted, throwing his fork down again. "Jesus, Liz, I'd think it was kinda obvious I wasn't there. Why didn't you come back in, instead of sitting out there for hours freezing yourself to death? Do you have any idea at all how long I was going round and round this morning looking for you? It was like you just disappeared or something. Because it was so damn cold today, the roof was the last place I thought of looking. What in the hell were you thinking of?"

The next thing he knew, he had to duck a bowl of half-eaten cereal that had been flung at his head.

"Me?" Liz shouted, "What was I thinking of? You're the one who disappears every damn time we make love like I've got some disease. I'm the one who's been wasting a lot of my mornings looking round and round for you. For a while there last night, I actually thought things were going to change; but when I woke up this morning, Red, you were gone—just like always. And so, stupid me, I went looking for you again." She buried her face in her hands and sobbed.

By this time, Hellboy had gotten up from his own chair to kneel by Liz and put his arms around her.

"I just can't sleep sometimes, Lizzie. You should have told me it was bothering you. It's nothing to do with you, not really. At least nothing we can do much of anything about."

Liz pulled away. "There is something we can do about it, Hellboy, or, at least, something I can do. You really want to know why I stayed out on the roof so long. Because I knew that if I came back in, I would pack up my bags and leave. I really wasn't ready to do that yet; but maybe it would be the best thing for us. You shouldn't have to feel so trapped."

Hellboy, who was still kneeling on the floor next to her chair, looked up into Liz's tear-streaked face. Usually pale, even in anger, she looked somewhat flushed. "Trapped? Who said I felt trapped, Liz?"

"Maybe 'trapped' is too strong a word, H.B.," she said after a moment, wiping the tears from her eyes. "But I'm getting older; it's not something I can ignore anymore. It's just a fact that wishing things were different won't make go away. I know you've been noticing it; don't try to deny it—I can see it in your eyes every time you look at me."

Taking her hand, Hellboy sighed, "Yeah, you're right; I've been noticing it." He sounded so dejected.

Leaning forward, Liz kissed his cheek. "Twenty years ago you made certain promises to me and I know you meant them; but I'm going to keep getting older and older and older, while you will always stay young, H.B. If you think it would make you happier to find someone younger, I won't hold you to those old promises." It was a huge relief to finally get these words out, even if they cost her a world of pain to speak them.

Still holding Liz's hand, he stared at her for a moment. "Is that what you thought was bothering me, that I wanted someone younger and felt trapped because of my promises to you?"

Tears falling again, she looked away and nodded.

He stood up, pulling her into his embrace. "I know I don't say this often enough; hell, I probably don't say it at all. So, let me say it now: I love you, Elizabeth Sherman, with all my heart. I love you more than life itself, more than love itself. When I promised you 'until death do us part', I meant that for always—not just for twenty years. I don't want someone younger; I want you, Liz—only you."

She looked up into his eyes and saw exactly the same depth of love that she had seen in Moscow over twenty years before. The time he had knelt by the empty shell of her body and whispered words of love that called her soul back from the cold, dark pit into which it had been banished.

Hellboy softly kissed her forehead, "I am bothered that you're getting older, Liz; but it's not the 'getting older' part that's the problem. It's because each day that goes by is one day closer to that day you'll die and leave me. Just like Pop died and left me. I am so afraid of the day that is coming when every one I ever loved will be gone while I just live on and on."

Tears welled up in Hellboy's eyes, as he recalled that horrible soul-crushing emptiness that had filled him earlier. "I can't believe I was stupid enough to let the fear of that day drive me away from you—while you are still right here to be loved. Can you ever forgive me?"

Liz could again only nod, as she wept even harder than she did before. Even though elated by his continuing devotion, she felt guilty that she could have ever doubted it. Tenderly using his left hand, Hellboy brushed away Liz's tears.

Then pulling her closer, he seized her lips in an eagerly fervent, all-consuming, kiss.

As she ecstatically returned Hellboy's fervor, Liz was filled with exactly the same passionate yearnings that had so overwhelmed her in Moscow all those years before. Just like that first kiss, her explosive desires broke the bounds of control she had learned with much effort over the years.

Fire exploded out from her and soared overhead; surrounding them both in flames of brilliant, flickering blue. Their urgent kiss deepened even further, as they both reveled in the blazing, ardent fire that only added further passion to their already boundless love. Liz was once again more than grateful that the one she loved more than anything else in this world was impervious to her fire.

One small corner of Liz's mind was able to keep rein on this manifestation of her incandescent power. Before anything was kindled in the surrounding environment, the flames were sucked back into their secret place in the core of her being. Panting heavily, both from the effort of this control and the breathtaking passions welling up inside of her, Liz slumped into Hellboy's arms in a dead faint.

"Lizzie!" Hellboy immediately switched from passionate lover to concerned husband. Easing her back down onto the cushions in front of the now dwindling fire, he hastily knelt and checked her pulse, which seemed a little too fast. He brushed her hair back from her forehead as her eyes opened again. "Jeez, Liz, don't scare me like that! Are you okay?"

"Yes, I think so," she said as he helped her sit up. "You know, I wasn't really lying before when I said I wasn't feeling all that well. I haven't felt completely well for several weeks now. I haven't thought too much about it, but maybe I'm due for a visit to my friendly neighborhood gynecologist."

"You don't think you're really sick do you, Lizzie?" Hellboy's heart was now filled with anxiety rather than his earlier fervent desire. He helped her up from the floor.

"No, Red, not really," Liz said as she stood up again. "It's probably one of those things that happens to women when they get to be around fifty. Maybe even something that could make me more touchy than usual, too."

She sat back down at the table where they had been eating earlier. "Right now I think I should eat a little more; that is if I have any cereal left after having heaved my bowl at your poor head."

Looking closer at the mess of cereal and broken ceramic all over the floor, Hellboy collapsed down into his chair at the table and roared with laughter. All it took was one look at his face for Liz to join him and soon they were both laughing almost uncontrollably. It felt really, really good to laugh that hard; neither of them could recall having laughed like that in months.

"I'll have the kitchen send us up a second breakfast," Hellboy said when he could catch his breath, "I'm afraid my food's stone cold."

"And there's certainly not much left to mine," Liz managed to gasp out between the bursts of laughter that she was still finding hard to control.

Getting up from his seat, Hellboy put in a call to the main kitchen for a second cart of food to be sent to the office. The kitchen staff merely assumed that Hellboy had been hungrier than usual that day.

Returning to the table, he retrieved the teapot. "I'll make a fresh pot of tea while we're waiting. Right now, I wouldn't mind a good cup of tea myself. Used to drink it with Pop sometimes when we made it up after a big fight."

Somehow this second pot of tea tasted even better to Liz than the first one did. Being blissfully happy did have a tendency to change your perceptions of things. The second delivery of food arrived from the main kitchen around twenty minutes later.

Liz curled up in Hellboy's lap and they proceeded to feed each other in the same way as they had done the first week after they were married. After that 'honeymoon' period had been over, they seldom ate breakfast together. Until recently, Liz was usually the one who arose earlier; leaving Hellboy snoring until late in the morning, surrounded by a bevy of his pet cats who would immediately take over Liz's still warm spot in their bed.

Outside of a lot of kissing in between bites of food, there was little communication between them while they ate. They both began to wonder if they shouldn't have a tiny fight once in a while, just to have the fun of making it up and eating breakfast together.

Liz soon ate her fill of her own cereal and some of Hellboy's French toast and bacon. After having a final cup of the more than excellent tea Hellboy had prepared, she fell asleep in his lap.

Gently holding Liz close with his huge right hand, Hellboy kissed the top of the head lying on his chest. He then quietly continued eating his own breakfast, more than used to feeding himself using only his normal-sized left hand; his stone-like right hand was almost useless for wielding a knife and fork.

Just as he was finishing eating, Kate Corrigan and Abe Sapien wandered into the office; they were both drinking large mugs of black coffee. Kate was wearing a red bathrobe that Hellboy had given her years before and Abe was dressed in his usual tight-fitting black shirt and shorts. His blue-green skin had returned to a more normal shade and he was absently rubbing at his head.

Hellboy thought that if the fish-man actually had hair, it would probably be standing on end by now. He tried to suppress his amusement, but it didn't do much good. Abe could still read his friend too well even without prying into his thoughts.

Abe glared at Hellboy, "Don't laugh at me like that, Red. At least Kate was correct about black coffee. I may not particularly care for coffee, but it really is helping this wretched headache."

Kate, in the meantime, had noticed the mess all over the carpet behind where Hellboy was sitting. "Had an accident earlier, Hellboy?"

"I said something pretty stupid," he said, speaking low so as not to wake Liz, "and almost ended up wearing Liz's breakfast. Don't really blame her. I can be pretty dense sometimes."

He smiled and kissed the top of Liz's head again. "We made it up, though."

Abe scuffed his three-toed webbed foot at a lightly scorched patch on the carpet. "So, Red, did the argument become pretty intense?"

Hellboy's smile became broader, "That's from the making up part, Blue."

"Well, it looks like you're going to have your work cut out for you to get this office decorated for Christmas, Hellboy," laughed Kate. "Come and get a hold of us when you're ready to get started." Climbing up the spiral staircase in the rear of the office, Kate and Abe descended down into Abe's private quarters.

Taking a final drink from his mug of coffee, Hellboy lifted Liz into his arms and stood up from his seat. She mumbled something, but never quite woke up. He carried her out into the hallway, bringing her to their private quarters. Shooing away about fifteen of his pet cats, he laid Liz down on the mattress in the back of the pickup truck and covered her with a blanket.

Standing and looking at her in much the same way as he had before dawn, he was still struck by the fact of her aging. Yet, instead of his earlier terror at that aging, he was engulfed by a deep and abiding love. He was certain this love would always be there; whether his wife aged another day or another fifty years. Reaching down, he briefly touched his left hand to her cheek before turning and walking back out of their room.

Returning to the office, he fetched his tan leather coat and put it on. Going back out, he made his way into the Medical Wing; returning to the chapel. It was no longer empty, as it had been when he was there earlier. Father Tom Hartley and some off-schedule nurses were now decorating the chapel for the Christmas Midnight Mass the priest would be conducting later.

"Need any help, Father Tom?" Hellboy asked as he walked in.

"Nope. Got everything under control," the priest grunted as he arranged some red poinsettias around the altar. "How're things coming along in your father's office?"

Hellboy shrugged, "I'm a bit late decorating it this year. If you guys are free in a couple of hours, come around. I might need the help."

Walking over to the statue of the Virgin, Hellboy knelt in silent prayer. After a time, he stood up and looked more closely at the statue, which portrayed a young woman in flowing blue-and-white robes. He brought out the child's rosary book from the inner pocket of his coat. "Thank you," he whispered.

A few minutes later, he walked out of the chapel as he contemplated this rosary book that had so mysteriously re-appeared. A very vivid memory sprang up of his seventh birthday when he had received this book as a gift from Trevor Broom. He began to wonder how things in his life might have gone differently if he had paid more attention, at the time, to the religious instruction his father had been trying to impart; instead of waiting for times of personal crisis to drive him into it.

Before making his way back to their quarters to join Liz in her nap, he contacted maintenance to go into the office and clean up the mess left over from his very late and very interesting breakfast. Continuing on his way after doing this, he found himself coming to a halt in front of the door to his late father's private quarters; certain he heard someone moving around in the room.

This was the one room in the Bureau facilities where Hellboy never had the fortitude to enter after Trevor Broom's death. He had reluctantly allowed Tom Manning, the FBI liaison at that time, to go into the room after the murder to remove books, papers, and other paraphernalia Manning deemed necessary for the continued functioning of the Bureau.

Upon Hellboy's insistence, the rest of the room had been kept exactly the way Trevor Broom left it that last evening of his life. Removing what he thought important, Manning locked the door and gave the key to Hellboy. The door had never been opened again. In fact, when newly developed electronic coded locks had been installed on all interior doors ten year's after Broom's death, this door was the only one that had gone untouched.

Hurriedly returning to their quarters, Hellboy found Liz was still napping. Working quietly, so as not to disturb her, he retrieved his belt and holstered his huge gun, the Samaritan. Digging around in the pouches of the belt, he finally found a metal key and returned to Trevor Broom's quarters.

Struggling with a lock that was stiff from disuse, Hellboy was concerned that the key would snap off in his left hand before the door unlocked. Finally, the lock disengaged with a loud scraping sound and he turned the knob to the door. Pulling out the Samaritan with his left hand, he slowly pushed the door open with his huge stone hand and looked in.

The room at first appeared to be empty and Hellboy had expected it to be dark; but a small lamp on the desk was lit. He could just barely make out a dark brown jacket and silk tie neatly draped over the back of a large armchair on the other side of the room from the desk.

Hellboy's heart skipped a beat when he saw these items of clothing. Trevor Broom had been wearing them the last time Hellboy had seen him alive. Later that evening, when his father's body had been found in his office after he had been stabbed to death, he was basically dressed the same as before; but more casually, having removed the jacket and tie. Hellboy assumed that he had intended to hang them up when he retired to bed for the night.

"Never had the chance," Hellboy muttered to himself, blinking back tears.

As he cautiously ventured further into the room, gun still in hand, Hellboy could see that some man was seated at the desk. Just as he was planning on angrily confronting this intruder, the man stood up and stepped forward into the small pool of light shed by the desk lamp. Hellboy was totally astonished at the unexpected apparition of Trevor Broom that now stood before him.

"Oh, shit," Hellboy groaned, lowering his gun and closing his eyes, "Just what I needed right now."

After his father's murder, it hadn't been too hard for Hellboy to accept being able to feel a strong sense of his presence; or swear that he could still hear his voice. He assumed that these experiences, no matter how real they seemed when they occurred, were driven by his own grief and vivid memories of Trevor Broom.

Hellboy could sense that this new apparition of Trevor Broom was neither like past experiences of his presence nor the mere appearance of a ghost—but that only left him with the idea of an extremely vivid hallucination. He was in no mood to interact with a figment of his imagination, generated by his recently intensified yearnings for the man who had raised him so many decades before.

"Go away," he finally said, turning away with eyes still closed. "I can't deal with this; just go away."

He felt a hand on his shoulder. "I have been waiting for such a long time, Son. Please, don't drive me away like this. Unfortunately, I only have a very brief time left. I can't afford to wait, as I once did, for you to be willing to speak with me."

Opening his eyes, Hellboy re-holstered his gun. "Pop, you're still a stubborn man, you know that?" Smiling sadly, he turned to face this uncannily realistic apparition of his late father. "I once swore to myself that I would do everything I could to make up for the stupid things I did before you were killed. Whether you're real or not doesn't matter; anything you want, I'll always do."

Broom smiled back at Hellboy, "Actually, there isn't much that I wanted from you, Son. I had some unfinished business to take care of and had been granted a limited amount of life force from the great universe to accomplish it. I have completed my task to the best of my ability, but could not abide leaving again without seeing you one more time."

Broom reached out and touched Hellboy's face; brushing away the tears that were more and more impossible for Hellboy to hold back. At this loving touch of his father's hand, Hellboy came to the vast realization that it was this very touch that he had been pining for all these past weeks. He listened with a kind of awe to this long-missed, cherished voice speaking to him.

"I have been here for several weeks, attempting to contact you; but it was very difficult to get through that barrier of darkness surrounding you. I expended much of the life force that was granted me in breaking you free from that entity attempting to possess you; it was the same entity that tried to take you from me in 1978. I have little idea of why I was finally successful today; I think I may have had other help. Regrettably, I am afraid that I now have very little time left to be with you."

Looking at Broom closer, Hellboy found it somewhat difficult to discern exactly what he looked like. He looked both as young as Hellboy remembered him from his childhood and as elderly as he had appeared the last time Hellboy had seen him, as he lay dead on the floor of his office. He was wearing the same clothing he had worn the night he had been murdered.

Filled with nothing but an ocean of love for this man who had been both father and mother to him for almost sixty years, Hellboy still could not speak of this love. The word 'love' was the same word he used to describe how he felt about his favorite foods or even how he felt about Liz; it seemed far too small a word to describe what he felt for this man he called 'Father'.

Trevor Broom was the man who had adopted as his own son an infant creature originally conjured up solely as a vehicle for doom and destruction. He had raised him in his own Catholic faith, taught him the meaning and power of love, and guided him to freely choose his destiny as one committed to protecting all of humanity. What words could ever be adequate to describe his feelings for this man?

While all of this was quickly passing through his mind and heart, Hellboy came to notice that Broom began to look rather worn out. Assisting him to the large armchair, he helped him to sit down and then curled up on the floor at his feet looking up at him.

Resting a hand on Hellboy's left shoulder, Broom massaged the tension out of it. Hellboy took this hand into his normal-sized left hand, gently caressing it. As he did this, he thought of a very memorable day in 1959 when Broom had warned him that, no matter how much longer he lived, Hellboy would never be ready to let him go. Broom had been right, Hellboy hadn't been ready in November of 2004; and he still wasn't ready twenty years later to let Broom go a second time.

Raising himself up onto his knees, in much the same way as he had done in his father's hospital room in 1959, Hellboy threw his arms around Trevor Broom and held him close; still paying attention, as he had been taught, to what he did with his huge right hand.

Just then, something happened to Hellboy that was even more remarkable than anything else that had occurred on this strange day. He never was quite sure if Trevor Broom had suddenly grown a lot larger or that he, himself, had shrunk smaller; but as Broom returned Hellboy's embrace he reached down and pulled him up into his lap as he used to do when his adopted son had been much, much smaller than his current seven-foot size.

Closing his eyes and relaxing into this longed-for embrace, Hellboy laid his head on his father's chest and listened to his steadily beating heart; the heart that he knew forever beat only in love for him. Both father and son heaved a huge sigh of contentment; long sitting together in a silent union.

Even though Hellboy had been speaking very little before, it was he that first broke this silence. "Father, how can this be possible?"

Broom kissed Hellboy's forehead, "Son, for those who love anything is possible."

Hellboy looked deeply into Trevor Broom's young/old face. "I wish things had been different, Father. I wish I had said that I loved you, but I never did; not once that I can remember."

Broom held Hellboy closer, "No, you never did. Yet, every day of our life together you told me of your love in all the ways that had nothing to do with words."

Reaching up, Hellboy touched Broom's face, "But it's not the same as if I had said something."

Broom smiled, "No, Son, it's not the same; but it was sufficient. I knew you loved me; what more does a father really need than to know that his son loves him?"

As Hellboy laid his head back down on Broom's chest again, he turned his face into his father's wool vest and wept for the loss that he knew was coming. He could feel the certainty that this wonderfully unexpected time of togetherness would soon be coming to an end. Afraid he would never experience Broom's presence this intensely ever again, he wept even harder.

Very softly, Trevor Broom began to speak again. Hellboy stopped weeping to hear him; raising his head again to listen more closely.

"Son, don't let your heart be so troubled. Remember the fourteenth chapter of the Gospel of John. The words of Jesus to his disciples are now mine to you as well: _In my Father's house there are many dwelling places. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, so that where I am, there you may be also._"

Broom gently wiped away Hellboy's tears, "Someday we will be together in this place, never to be separated again; this I promise you."

If this passage from the Gospel of John was meant to be comforting, Hellboy found little comfort in it.

"Father, you've never broken a promise to me; but it doesn't look like I'm going to die from old age, or at least not for a very, very long time. I'm kind of stuck here unless I get killed or commit suicide. I'm not sure I'd want either. Maybe the only real way out is to destroy the entire world as I was originally created to do; but I just plain refuse to do that, no matter what happens to me. It wouldn't get me to this place you're telling me about, anyway; but if I just keep on living and living, when will I ever see you again?"

Broom drew Hellboy's head back down to his chest. "Son, remember my love. I have never yet allowed anything to keep us apart. I have always been with you in some form or another and I forever will be. This world will, indeed, someday come to its end; but this will be in God's own time, and according to God's own will and plan, not that of men or other creatures opposed to the Good. Await the will of Heaven, Son, and you will certainly see me again. I know this; I have seen it."

As Trevor Broom ceased speaking, Hellboy could again hear the beating of his heart; but it was no longer as strong or as steady as it had been previously. He felt the chest his head was laying on heave as his father attempted to take a deeper breath, but found it a struggle.

"Son, my time now grows exceedingly short." Broom spoke slowly, often stopping for breath. "I must leave you very soon, but would like to speak to you of one thing further. You dislike, as I do myself, that portrait of me that was installed in the office after my death. I have now discarded that picture and left in its place a portrait that is more to my liking.

Broom ceased speaking for a moment and then resumed even more weakly than before.

"You may see little in this portrait at first. Keep on contemplating it and this will change; especially if you continue to recall my love for you and your love for me. I hope you find as much comfort in this portrait as I have; may it become a sign to you of my ever abiding presence."

As Hellboy clung even more tightly to Trevor Broom, he swore he could feel the last of the life force draining out from him. Leaning forward, Broom kissed the top of Hellboy's head one last time.

"Son, I am so grateful for these moments I have been granted to hold you in my arms once more. Yet, my time has come again and I wish you to leave me now. I have little idea of what exactly is going to occur and I would rather you not witness it."

"No, Father, please don't make me go," Hellboy almost sobbed, "I've never forgiven myself for leaving you alone that night; never. And I will never leave you alone again, if I can help it. If Death insists on taking you away from me a second time, he'll have to drag you out of my arms to get you."

Broom smiled weakly at this. "And you called me stubborn. Unfortunately, Death will never take 'no' for an answer, Son, no matter how tightly you cling to me. Remember that in the end it will not be Death who has the final word. Until the time of the coming of that Kingdom, I must bid you farewell."

Having no energy left to speak or act further, Trevor Broom closed his eyes and collapsed into Hellboy's embracing arms. His second time on Earth, if brief, was filled in its final moments with nothing except the sense of his son's great love.

Death soon came for Trevor Broom and Hellboy clung to his father as desperately as he had promised; but Death finally won that battle, leaving Hellboy with little more than a dark brown vest clutched tightly in his arms—and the memory of one last vivid encounter with a very special man.

About the same time as Hellboy's obstinate struggle against Death, Liz had awakened from her nap. She was surprised that Hellboy had never joined her for the nap as she had expected he might. Noticing that his gun and utility belt were gone, she wondered if she had slept through an alarm that had sent him out on a job and whether he was back yet or not.

Getting up from the bed, she went to see what was going on in the office where she had eaten breakfast with Hellboy earlier. As she walked down the hallway, she did not notice at the time that the door to Trevor Broom's former private quarters was partially open.

Upon arriving to the office, she was astounded to see how beautifully decorated the whole place was; complete with a huge Christmas tree. In fact, these decorations looked new. Liz wondered when Hellboy had found time to purchase new ornaments and why he hadn't woken her to help him.

She noticed the abstract painting over the fireplace where the portrait of Trevor Broom had been hanging just hours before. Knowing how much Hellboy hated that portrait, she assumed that he had made this switch when he decorated the office.

This weirdly beautiful painting almost looked like something familiar; but she couldn't quite make it out and wondered where Hellboy had obtained it. Looking at the picture too long was starting to make her dizzy, so she turned away.

Since there was no one in the office, Liz decided to go back to the room to shower and dress in what she wanted to wear for Midnight Mass. As she started toward their private quarters, she then noticed that the door to Trevor Broom's former quarters was standing ajar. Filled with curiosity, she pushed the door further open and looked through.

In the dim light cast from the desk lamp, Liz was shocked to make out Hellboy crumpled to the floor in front of the large armchair. She wondered what had driven him into this room that he had avoided for over twenty years, never even permitting the door to be opened by others. As she entered the room, he seemed unaware of her presence and she could hear him muttering to himself under his breath.

Kneeling next to him, she placed a hand on his shoulder. Noticing as she did so that his eyes were closed and he was doggedly clutching something to his chest. At her touch, he curled around this object even closer and screwed his eyes more tightly shut.

"You can't take him! I won't let you!" Startled by this vehement cry, Liz shook his shoulder; wondering if he was asleep and in the middle of some nightmare.

Hellboy sat up, blinking away tears as he finally recognized her. "Father was here, Liz. I know it sounds impossible; but he was really here and we talked about so many things."

Hellboy groaned as he stood up from the floor; to Liz's ears, the groan sounded halfway between a sob and a laugh. "Death came to take him away again and I tried so hard to stop him. Pop was right; Death was more stubborn than I was. I just couldn't hold on to Pop tight enough."

Liz could now see what Hellboy was holding. It appeared to be the wool vest that matched the jacket draped over the back of the chair. She knew that to be impossible; the bloodstained items of clothing removed during the autopsy of Trevor Broom's body had been discarded after they had no longer been needed in evidence to the murder. Broom had owned a lot of wool vests, but only one had been part of the matching three-piece suit he had worn the day he died.

Examining the battered-looking vest he was holding, Hellboy noted for the first time the bloodstains on the back and the small tear toward the top where Kroenen had stabbed Trevor Broom from behind. Liz saw some tears roll down his cheeks; but he unexpectedly smiled. Carefully folding up the vest, he draped it over the back of the chair next to the jacket.

Without another word, Hellboy turned to leave and a still-curious Liz followed him. As he locked the door again, she heard him whisper, "Farewell, Father, until we meet again."

Hellboy held a casual supper in the beautifully decorated office for his friends and colleagues that could attend; just the same as he always did on Christmas Eve. Admiring the gorgeous decorations, everyone praised Hellboy for his wonderful taste and the rapidity with which he single-handedly got everything in place. He just smiled, shrugged, and admitted that he had no idea where all of these crystalline ornaments had come from.

Another item of interest was the odd painting now hanging over the fireplace. Hellboy claimed it as a gift from one who was very dear to him, but who would prefer to remain anonymous. Every so often, during the party, he would look up at it.

If this was the 'portrait' that his father had spoken of earlier, he was confused; it seemed nothing more than random splotches of paint. Yet, he preferred it to that god-awful portrait of Trevor Broom. It was weirdly evocative how the splotches almost seemed to almost coalesce into something familiar.

Seated on the other side of the room with Kate, Abe was drinking non-alcoholic eggnog and munching on his favorite rotten eggs.

Getting up, eggnog in hand, he joined Hellboy in contemplating the picture. "That has to be the most beautiful portrait of you and Professor Broom as anyone could paint. It looks quite realistic."

Hellboy, whose own eggnog had plenty of whiskey in it, looked oddly at Abe. "You mean you actually see something in that weird picture? It hardly looks like anything at all to me."

"Kate sees a portrait of you two as well; but sees a totally different image. From what she describes, it is just as beautiful and just as realistic as what I see. From other comments we have overheard, obviously many, like you, see only random swirls. Can't you tell me where it came from?"

Hellboy, who had still been closely staring at the picture, turned to Abe and nodded. Putting an arm around his friend's shoulder, he drew him into a quiet corner apart from the others.

"It was Father, Abe. He was waiting for me in his private quarters. We sat together for a long time, just like we used to do before I turned six and suddenly got taller than he was. I know I sound crazy, but we talked about all sorts of things. He told me that he hated that old portrait of him just as much as I did and had left this other portrait in its place. Father says I'm supposed to keep on looking at it until I can see the picture. Maybe I need to be alone without all this fuss."

Abe had seen too many weird things in his career with the BPRD to disbelieve Hellboy. Managing to return to help the son he loved so well—this was exactly the kind of thing that the Professor Broom he had always cared for and remembered so fondly would do.

"Follow the Professor's advice, Red. The results should be very rewarding."

Hellboy and Abe went to join Liz and Kate, who were also discussing the odd portrait.

"Tell me, Blue, does it make you dizzy to look at it for too long?" Hellboy said as they walked together across the room.

"It did at first, Red; but once it settled into an actual image the vertigo went away."

Hellboy sighed, and then laughed, "I'll have to sit, look at it for a long time, and see what happens. Leave it to Pop to give me something interesting that's a bit of a puzzle as well. He always did like giving me gifts that were supposed to make me think."

They found Kate comforting Liz who was somewhat distraught, yet also seemed glad. Kate slipped away as Hellboy sat next to Liz, taking her into his arms. "Something wrong, Lizzie?"

"That's one hell of a strange picture you've got up there, H.B.," she sniffled. "You should warn people that they might see things they don't expect. And stop calling me 'Lizzie', you know I never really liked that; makes me feel like some little kid again."

"But that's just it," Hellboy said smiling, "Sometimes I'm reminded of the very first time I met you, back in Chicago when you were eleven; back before you joined the Bureau when you were seventeen, before I fell in love with you. It just happens."

Returning his smile, Liz looked up at the portrait again, "Strange; at first I couldn't see much in that picture at all. Then it started to look kind of like a picture of you and your father. But all of a sudden, it turned to a picture of my parents; back before all the trouble started—before it all went up in flames when I was eleven. It was scary at first; but then it was nice to see them looking so happy again. Then the picture went back to being one of you and Professor Broom."

She leaned forward, "Red, your father left this for you today, didn't he?"

He just nodded and then looked at the time. "Well, we better head out to the chapel. That medical staff choir is going to sing some Christmas music about an hour before Mass and I'd like to hear it."

As they were starting to leave for the chapel, someone from maintenance who had a package wrapped up in brown paper, stopped Liz. "Ms. Sherman, the waste disposal system rejected as a possible error a red dress that a member of my staff recognized as yours. We figured that you may have disposed of it by accident."

Smiling, Liz accepted the package. "You're right; it was an accident. Thanks for taking care of it." Turning to Hellboy, Liz took his arm. "Let's run this back to the room before we go to the concert."

Later, after a very beautiful concert and an even more beautiful Midnight Mass, Hellboy found himself back in the office alone contemplating that interesting portrait.

He eventually saw many different images in it. Most showed him together with Trevor Broom.

Some images, when he was very young, were probably more from Broom's memories than his own. It was interesting to see himself more from his father's point of view; he looked so much more handsome than he ever thought of himself as looking.

"But, then again, Son," he heard a quiet voice in his head, "You always looked handsome to me."

With further contemplation of this portrait, Hellboy began to see other people he had loved and lost; but the primary images always returned to Trevor Broom. Hellboy came to recognize this portrait for what it truly was: a magical window into his past that was really a glimpse of that Heaven he hoped to someday reach; just as his father had promised. As Trevor Broom had earlier said about a love that went unspoken—it may not be exactly the same, but it was sufficient.

Just before dawn on Christmas Day, Hellboy climbed next to Liz in their bed and dreamt of a young man who fed him Baby Ruth candy bars. Hellboy had always loved chocolate—almost as much as he loved the father who gave it to him.

* * *

_Passage from the Gospel of John:_ New Revised Standard Version, copyright 1989, Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

_Next chapter: **Epilogue**_


	3. Epilogue

**Author's note: **I've always wanted to add a third chapter/epilogue to this story. This is connected to the 'Liz Sherman' chapter of Hellboy's Family, which has already established the 'portrait' of this story as an element in that chapter. There is always the possibility that events I place far in the future will end up as 'non-canonical' after the release of Hellboy 2: The Golden Army. In my version of things, Hellboy and Liz, in spite of any hiccups along the way in their relationship, stay together until she dies.

**Disclaimer: **Hemingway once said that all true stories end in death. This must make Hellboy a true story and I bow to the extraordinary truths of Mike Mignola and Guillermo del Toro, without which these beautiful characters would not exist.

**Family Portrait: Epilogue: A Picture of Death and Loss**

_****__Bureau for Paranormal Research and Defense  
Newark, New Jersey  
Friday, December 23, 2078_

Hellboy walked into his late father's office.

When Hellboy was appointed director of field operations, he could have taken this office for himself; but, in many ways, this huge space had too many connections to Trevor Broom's life and death for him to feel comfortable using it. Hence, Hellboy had his own office elsewhere in the Newark facility.

There were times, in the seventy-four years since the murder, when memories of Trevor Broom were tucked to the back of Hellboy's mind and heart. Yet, there were days, such as the day of his 'birth', when he still experienced the depth of their relationship and the grief of his loss.

Today was Hellboy's 134th birthday and also the 73rd anniversary of his engagement to Liz.

Later that day, he was planning on going to visit Liz in the hospice where she had been admitted after developing a particularly virulent strain of cancer. He still found it amazing how medical advances would eradicate one type of cancer just to have an even worse form spring up to curse humanity.

Extraordinarily restless today, he knew a large part of it was from guilt. Frankly, he could barely recall the last time he had gone to visit Liz in the hospice. Sure, he had a good excuse. He was busy; had too many duties and responsibilities. He knew that this was nothing but bullshit. The real truth was that he knew Liz was dying; and he just couldn't deal with the idea of losing her.

Once again, he planned on contemplating the miraculous 'portrait' he had received as a gift on the day after his 80th birthday fifty-four years earlier. Wherever this intriguing canvas had truly hailed from, he still considered it a gift from his then long-dead father.

For some reason, though, he found himself oddly reluctant to look at the images the portrait would reveal to him on this day; as if he knew something would be revealed that he did not want to see.

Hellboy could still recall the day he saw Kate Corrigan join the ranks of people he could see revealed to him in its abstract swirls of color. Even though images of Trevor Broom still predominated, as more and more of those whom he cared for passed on, they too came into this portrait.

Finally wandering over to gaze at this long-cherished canvas, he was once again comforted by the many images he could see of himself with his father.

What happened next started out so innocently. He saw an image of himself, wearing a bit of scowl, coming to stand next to Trevor Broom in front of the fireplace in his office. Someone was taking a picture of them. The perspective then changed slightly and a third person came to join them.

Blinking back tears, Hellboy moved closer to the portrait as a nineteen-year-old Liz Sherman came to stand with him and his father. He remembered the day that picture was taken; the same picture that still sat on his father's desk in a slightly tarnished silver frame.

At that same moment, the videophone on the desk began to signal an incoming call. Already knowing who was calling and why, he let the automated attendant take the call.

Falling to his knees, Hellboy bowed his head and wept as he hadn't wept since his father's death. Once again, he had allowed someone he loved to die alone because he was nothing but a damn fool.

_**Author's afterword:** I not only added this epilogue, I also completely overhauled the grammar in the first two chapters. Even though Family Portrait has always been one of my favorite stories, I've never been completely satisfied with the structure of the sentences. As I've developed a much smoother writing style since I first posted this, when I decided to add more to it, I just had to re-write the first two chapters. It's essentially the same, but I do think it reads better. Thanks for reading, all feedback welcome. Beth Palladino_


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